


Pain is a Part of the Complete Human Experience

by ficforthought



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Gen, Good Dad Sam, Hurt Jack Kline, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficforthought/pseuds/ficforthought
Summary: Written forthisprompt in the spnkink_meme on LJ: "Jack gets his first ever splinter in his foot of all places. Sam helps him, and works at distracting Jack and then comforting him after (maybe with ice cream and a movie because it was a very big splinter)."
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme





	Pain is a Part of the Complete Human Experience

**Author's Note:**

> Set early S13, somewhere between Patience and The Big Empty, when Jack is still confined to the bunker. Title a direct quote from our precious boy in The Rising Son.

Sam’s in the bunker’s rarely visited workshop when he hears Jack calling his name from somewhere in the distance. Around him are all kinds of woodworking tools the hunter hasn't seen since he was at school - a couple of different sized vices, various saws, drills and drill bits are dotted about the place. He’d originally come in here to tidy away anything that Jack might hurt himself on given how the kid’s taken to wandering around during the night when he can’t sleep, and is too curious for his own good. Sam doesn’t sleep much as it is but he’s human so does need a few hours and he can’t be watching Jack all the time. In a moment of nostalgia Sam has found himself using the tools to shape a small block of wood he’d found, planing and sanding it down into a mini replica of the Impala. He’s just pulled out his knife and set about the finer carving of the windows and doors into the wood when Jack’s voice gets louder.  
  
The hunter looks up as the kid comes into the room, book in hand, excitedly reading aloud from whatever text has got his attention. Sam notices almost immediately that Jack has bare feet, he’s still new to the world and not yet fully used to the concept of clothes. Although Sam and Dean had taken him shopping and allowed him to pick out a basic selection of clothes and shoes, the young Nephilim still hasn't quite got the hang of the intricacies of dressing himself in terms of what he should wear, and when. In the daytime the Winchesters themselves are rarely anything other than fully dressed - shoes included - a habit formed from a lifetime of having to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. Jack hasn't left the bunker in the weeks since they brought him home and even with the pre-existing knowledge he has of the social norms of wearing clothing around other people, sometimes he forgets little things like shoes and socks.  
  
Not taking any notice of where he’s walking Jack makes a beeline for where Sam’s standing, continuing to read from his book and completely unaware that he's about to step into a pile of wood shavings and sawdust.  
  
“Jack, don’t…” Sam calls out, trying to alert the boy to the potential danger but he knows it's too late from the look of horror that spreads over the kid's face as if in slow motion. Jack lets out a cry which sounds like a mixture of shock of pain. Sam quickly puts down the knife and carving, rushing over to the boy and immediately reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.  
  
“Sam, what's happening?” the young Nephilim asks with alarm in his voice, his blue eyes wide and filled with worry. The book he was holding makes a loud slam as it hits the floor as Jack takes a couple of steps back, balancing on one foot and lifting his injured one, wobbling on the spot as he tries to look at the source of his pain.  
  
“It's OK, buddy,” Sam says in a calming voice, and grips Jack’s shoulder a little tighter to help him balance, “it's probably just a splinter. They can be painful but they’re not serious. Here,” he says, patting the workbench next to them, “hop up here and I'll take a look.”  
  
Jack looks at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t think I can... hop, I mean. Is that important?” he asks, looking slightly dejected.  
  
Sam can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes before he manages to set his face back into a serious expression, making a mental note not to be so literal with the kid, “It’s just an expression, Jack, don’t worry about it. What I meant was sit up here,” he says, nodding his head towards the bench.  
  
With another frown the boy pushes himself up, his legs swinging slightly in front of him until he brings his injured foot to rest on the opposite knee. Sam can already see a large red mark on the ball of his foot along with wood shavings on his heel, which Jack is frantically brushing off as if they’re burning him.  
  
The hunter rests his hand on Jack’s shin, “I’m gonna take a look, alright?” he says softly. He waits for the boy to nod before he gently grips Jack’s foot and turns it towards the better light. On closer inspection he can see two punctures in the skin, one small and the other quite a lot bigger. He rubs his thumb over the smaller one, feeling a slight bump under the skin, then over the larger one and feels a sharp tug on his own skin. Jack hisses and jerks his foot away, “You’ve got a couple of splinters in there, they’re not too deep, we can get them out easily enough.”  
  
“How?” he asks, twisting so he can study his injury again.  
  
“Come on, let’s go inside and get the first aid kit. Do you need some help?” Jack shakes his head as he lowers himself back down, glaring at the wood covered floor. He half hops towards the door, making Sam smile until the kid wobbles, “Here,” the older man says, hooking an arm around Jack’s waist to steady him, and they slowly make their way to the kitchen.  
  
As soon as he’s seated Jack brings his foot back up again, running the pad of his finger over the sore spots and grimacing. He looks thoughtfully at the skin before looking up at Sam with a troubled look, “Why aren’t I healing?”  
  
Sam frowns, the kid took an angel blade to the chest and came out of it unscathed so it’s an excellent question, “I’m not sure, buddy,” he replies, honestly, washing his hands while he waits for the kettle to boil, “maybe your body knows the difference between life threatening and minor injuries.”  
  
Jack blinks up at him, “That’s… good, right?” he says, hesitantly.  
  
“Sure is, it’s very good,” Sam assures as he fills a bowl with hot water and carries it to the table along with the first aid kit. He crouches down in front of Jack and pats his own thigh, “rest it on here,” he says, lifting Jack’s foot from underneath the heel, “alright,” he says, “stay still for me, OK?” Jack nods, nervously biting on his bottom lip. Sam gives the boy a reassuring smile then places his thumbs either side of the smaller splinter and applies enough pressure for it to pop out of the skin, “there we go,” he says, laying the tiny piece of wood on the palm of his hand and lifting it towards Jack.  
  
“That’s it?” he asks with a frown, tipping his head from one side to the other to look at it, “It’s tiny.”  
  
“That’s it,” Sam laughs and drops it into a napkin, “now for the bigger one. This is gonna be a bit tougher, just hold still again for me, alright?” Jack nods again, the nervous look gone now he knows what to expect. This time when Sam presses on the skin the boy cries out, jerks his foot back and the hunter finds himself on his ass on the cold floor a few feet away from where he was only seconds ago. When he looks up the Nephilim’s eyes are fading from gold back to blue.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jack says, sheepishly, “it hurt.”  
  
Sam thinks back to how Jack responded in the tattoo studio, reflexively throwing the artist across the room and slamming him into the wall. He winces slightly at the thought and how this could have been much worse for him, “It’s alright, buddy, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”  
  
Jack nods again and offers a small smile of acknowledgement.  
  
“We’re gonna need to get the tweezers out for this one, I think,” Sam says as he pushes himself up off the floor and makes his way back to the table.  
  
“Tweezers?” Jack asks, curiously.  
  
Sam pulls them out from the kit and holds them up, flexing them so they open and close, “These are tweezers, I’ll grab the splinter,” he says, closing them so Jack can see, “pull it out,” he retracts his hand, “and then we’re done.”  
  
“O-OK,” the boy replies, the nervous look back on his face again, “will it hurt?”  
  
Sam sighs, “I can’t say it won’t, Jack, but I’ll be as gentle and quick as I can, I promise,” he says, softly, as he dips a cotton ball in the bowl of water squeezes out some of the excess, “the hot water will open up the skin and make it easier to get out,” he says.  
  
Jack swallows and nods, “Alright,” he says in a faux cheery tone, “let’s do this.”  
  
Sam holds the cotton ball against the angry looking skin around the splinter until he's satisfied the wound is opened up enough for him to work on with the least amount of discomfort. Once again he puts Jack’s foot on his thigh and puts his thumbs either side of the puncture, and feels the kid tense in preparation. Sam applies some pressure until the end of the splinter is outside the skin enough for him to get a proper hold of, “OK,” he says, shifting the tweezers in his hand and positioning the grips either side of it, “on the count of three, ready?” Jack looks puzzled but when Sam nods encouragingly he starts to count out loud. Sam gently tugs out the offending piece of wood as the boy gets to two.  
  
“Ow, you said _three_!” Jack cries, a look of shock on his face.  
  
“Sorry,” Sam says with a shrug, studying the jagged wood, then holds the tweezers towards Jack, “here, take a look.”  
  
Jack reaches his long fingers out and wraps them around Sam’s wrist, leans forward and frowns a little before he blinks down at the older man, “That one hurt,” he looks down at the table where the other splinter sits on the napkin, then back at the one in Sam’s hand.  
  
“I’m not surprised,” the older man says, laying the bigger one down and noting it’s at least three times the size of the first. He picks up a fresh cotton ball and gently wipes away the small drops of blood coming from the wound on the young skin before dabbing it with disinfectant, “sorry,” he says when Jack winces at the sting. He pats the skin dry and applies a dressing over it, “there you go, all done. That wasn’t so bad after all, was it?”  
  
Jack offers a weak smile, “No,” he says, shaking his head, “sorry I...,” he waves his hand in the direction of the floor where Sam had landed.  
  
The hunter sighs and squeezes the boy’s ankle, “Listen, Jack, it wasn’t your fault. None of us know how your powers work, yet, but you gotta give yourself a break. No lasting harm done, there might be a bruise on my ass but it’ll fade...and you have to be more careful walking around with nothing on your feet, OK?”  
  
Jack looks up at him and blinks, a small but genuine smile slowly spreading across his face, “I will,” he says, earnestly.  
  
“Good,” Sam smiles, “wait here a minute, I’ll get you some shoes and socks.”  
  
Sam fetches a pair of thick, comfortable, fluffy socks that he knows Dean hides away in a drawer and thinks his brother doesn’t know about, and Jack’s sneakers. He watches the boy put them on carefully, wincing a little when he puts weight on his sore foot.  
  
“All good?” he asks when Jack looks up at him.  
  
“All good. Thank you, Sam...for everything.” he says, his eyes a little watery.  
  
“You’re welcome,” the older man replies, trying not to let Jack’s unshed tears affect him but the kid has already carved out a place in Sam’s heart, “hey, how about we get some ice cream?”  
  
A beaming smile transforms Jack’s face, “I’d like that,” he says, moments before his eyes go wide and the smile turns to a look of panic, “Uh, Sam...Dean doesn't need to know about this, does he?”  
  
Sam shakes his head and sits down on the bench next to Jack, “No, he doesn't need to know a thing,” Sam replies, patting Jack on the thigh, “but it’s really nothing to worry about. I know Dean’s being an ass at the moment but he’ll come around, you’ll see.” The Nephilim looks at him, clearly unconvinced, so Sam tries a different tactic, “Besides, you should see him with a paper cut!” he says and rolls his eyes.  
  
“What happens?” Jack asks, a mix of concern and curiosity in his young voice.  
  
“Put it this way...there’s less drama when he’s been shot!” Sam winks, smiling when the kid chuckles. “So how about that ice cream?”  
  
“And a movie?” Jack asks, his blue eyes wide and hopeful like a giant puppy.  
  
“Fine,” Sam replies with a fond smile, “ice cream _and_ a movie!”


End file.
